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Once
more
,
he
emerged
into
the
light
of
the
blazing
palms
.
He
pulled
his
cloak
around
him
,
stared
at
the
flames
.
Soon
I
will
know
.
Soon
I
will
see
the
Baron
and
I
will
know
.
And
the
Baron
—
he
will
encounter
a
small
tooth
.
*
*
*
There
is
a
legend
that
the
instant
the
Duke
Leto
Atreides
died
a
meteor
streaked
across
the
skies
above
his
ancestral
palace
on
Caladan
.
—
the
Princess
Irulan
:
“
Introduction
to
a
Child
’
s
History
of
Muad
’
Dib
”
THE
BARON
Vladimir
Harkonnen
stood
at
a
viewport
of
the
grounded
lighter
he
was
using
as
a
command
post
.
Out
the
port
he
saw
the
flame
-
lighted
night
of
Arrakeen
.
His
attention
focused
on
the
distant
Shield
Wall
where
his
secret
weapon
was
doing
its
work
.
Explosive
artillery
.
The
guns
nibbled
at
the
caves
where
the
Duke
’
s
fighting
men
had
retreated
for
a
last
-
ditch
stand
.
Slowly
measured
bites
of
orange
glare
,
showers
of
rock
and
dust
in
the
brief
illumination
—
and
the
Duke
’
s
men
were
being
sealed
off
to
die
by
starvation
,
caught
like
animals
in
their
burrows
.
The
Baron
could
feel
the
distant
chomping
—
a
drumbeat
carried
to
him
through
the
ship
’
s
metal
:
broomp
.
.
.
broomp
.
Then
:
BROOMP
-
BROOMP
!
Who
would
think
of
reviving
artillery
in
this
day
of
shields
?
The
thought
was
a
chuckle
in
his
mind
.
But
it
was
predictable
the
Duke
’
s
men
would
run
for
those
caves
.
And
the
Emperor
will
appreciate
my
cleverness
in
preserving
the
lives
of
our
mutual
force
.
He
adjusted
one
of
the
little
suspensors
that
guarded
his
fat
body
against
the
pull
of
gravity
.
A
smile
creased
his
mouth
,
pulled
at
the
lines
of
his
jowls
.
